


Spill

by lezzerlee



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Facials, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezzerlee/pseuds/lezzerlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur spills more than he intends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spill

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for the [Arthur/Eames Facial Fic Fest](http://asunder.dreamwidth.org/2213.html)  
> Thank you to [Krytella](http://krytella.dreamwidth.org) for the beta.

Eames is looking up through his lashes, through the furious movement of Arthur’s fist above him, to Arthur’s flushed and contorted face. From the neck up Arthur is red, blood hot beneath his skin, and the tip of his cock is a shade deeper than that as he fists it in his hand. Sweat trickles down Eames’ spine and he mouths at the underside of Arthur’s testicles as he waits. Arthur’s breath comes in pants; short, sharp gasps of air littered with high-pitched whimpers and cut off nonsense phrases. Arthur is talkative during sex: he commands, he pleads, he curses like a sailor. Eames loves every filthy comment that comes out of Arthur’s mouth. He loves that Arthur can’t control himself when he fucks Eames and tells him how beautiful he is, how many ways he’d love to bend Eames over various surfaces. The way he says, “Oh fuck yes, baby,” and “God, Eames, look at the way you take my cock. You were made for this,” never gets old.

Eames’ knees dig into the carpet and he can taste Arthur’s skin mixed with the sweetness of lube. In a second he’s expecting the saltiness of Arthur’s seed to join the palette when Arthur comes over his face. It’s his favorite moment, watching Arthur crumble, hearing whatever phrase gets stuck in Arthur’s mind on repeat the instant he tips over the edge. Eames has heard anything from the generic “Yes, yes yes!” To the totally out of character, “Fuck, dawg, goddammit bitch, take that!” (That one had ended in a laughing fit and semen smeared across Arthur’s leg when Eames’ stomach cramped up and he tipped forward into Arthur for balance.) But nothing prepared him for the next phrase that leaps from Arthur’s throat as orgasm racks his body.

Eames closes his eyes, knowing Arthur is about lose it. The rhythmic, wet squish of slick between Arthur’s fingers starts to speed up and Arthur is uttering a long string of curses. Gripping the back of Eames’ head, Arthur holds him in place as he shoots thick, wet jets of come onto Eames’ skin. Eames can feel it like a brand: sticky and heavy and hot.

“Fuck, Eames, I fucking love you!” Arthur chokes out as he continues to stroke himself shakily through his orgasm. Eames sits stock still in stunned silence. It takes a moment for Arthur to realize what he said, and when he does the grip on Eames’ hair momentarily tightens and Arthur clutches his dick in his hand.

“The fuck did you just say?” Eames whispers. He dares to open his eyes, hoping that no errant string is sticking to his lashes. He looks up into Arthur’s stricken face. Arthur looks embarrassed, apologetic, and fearful, which twists a dark knot inside Eames’ stomach, because he’ll have none of that.

“I … I didn’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” Arthur starts to backtrack. Eames stands quickly, nearly knocking Arthur over when he grabs him by the hips.

“Do not say you didn’t mean it,” Eames demands.

“No! No, I just didn’t want to say it like this. I wanted … I wanted it to be perfect.” The kicked puppy look on Arthur’s face is too much for Eames to handle. He knows what a moment like this must mean to Arthur, how Arthur must have planned every last detail of how and when he was going to say it. All of that ruined in a moment because Arthur can’t control what his mouth does when he’s blissed out and high on sex.

Eames pulls Arthur in closer, hugging his wiry frame to his body as his palms sweep circles over Arthur’s back in soothing patterns. His face is covered in come, now cooling and more than a little uncomfortable. He has to look completely debauched, naked, wet, wide-eyed and mouth agape. But Eames doesn’t care, because this moment _is_ perfect. It’s not trumped up, with broad gestures or theatrics. There is no elaborate dinner or date, which is completely unnecessary for their relationship. It’s just a burst of honesty in a moment of passion that Arthur can’t deny.

It’s the truth.

Kissing Arthur he can taste the saltiness of semen on his tongue, which means Arthur can taste it too. Their tongues tangle and breathing becomes difficult because neither of them want to break away. Arthur brings his hands up to hold Eames’ face and his thumbs rub the come into Eames’ skin. He pulls away, and grins. His dimples are beautiful bookends to his smile. Arthur’s hands sweep down Eames’ arms to his hips. Arthur cups Eames’ erection in his hand.

“Let’s take care of this for you,” he whispers and gives a little squeeze. Then he leans forward and licks up Eames’ cheek, taking his come off with his tongue. His hand slides over Eames’ prick steadily and they don’t stop kissing until Eames comes with a hitched breath and shudders into Arthur’s grip. He whispers “I bloody fucking love you too,” into Arthur’s hair.


End file.
